


Fey

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Luna saves the day, Luna-centric, Sleeping Beauty AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: When she was young, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret watched as her betrothed was cursed to an early death. Twenty years on, Luna is poised to take over the kingdom, uncertain about her upcoming wedding, and in need of an escape. A ride in the forest at the edge of Faerie brings her to a strange young man living among the fey folk, and as the two of them bond, she finds herself pushed into a greater, far more dangerous destiny than she could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was the crown princess of Tenebrae, and at four years old, she wasn’t all too sure about it. For one, there was her formal gown, which looked perfectly lovely on the tailor’s doll but pinched at the arms and made it hard to walk. The monarchs of Tenebrae were working queens, practical and sure of themselves, and Luna was used to running about the manor at home in loose breeches and soft kid boots. But Lucis, she was told, wanted to see a _princess,_ so there she was, drowning in petticoats and eyeing her brother Ravus with more than a little envy. As a boy, _he_ didn’t have to worry about being a ruler of anything. _He_ could wear whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, and, apparently, marry whoever he wanted as well.

Because the second thing, the _worst_ thing, was waiting for Luna in the big, golden crib on the dais of the Lucian throne room.

“Oh, he’s lovely,” her mother said, because queens were supposed to be kind. She lay a hand on the queen of Lucis’ arm and beckoned to Luna. “Luna, come. This is Prince Noctis, your betrothed.”

Luna put on a brave face and stepped up to the crib. The baby lying in the embroidered black blankets was cute, she supposed, but she didn’t see how anything so small and soft and pink could grow up to be a _husband._ She reached in a hand, and Prince Noctis regarded it, wide eyes thoughtful, before bursting into hideous, screeching tears.

“What did I do?” she whispered, as Queen Aulea swept in to lift the prince into her arms. The adults around her smiled as though she’d said something amusing, _not_ as though she’d just broken the crown prince of Lucis. Her mother sighed at King Regis, who nodded, and Ravus had to pluck at Luna’s sleeve to make sure she stepped back from the dais. 

“There, darling,” Queen Aulea said, as Prince Noctis began to settle down. “I know, I know, all this fuss can’t be fun.”

Luna hadn’t thought of that. If she was bored and uncomfortable, the poor prince was probably miserable. No wonder he’d cried. She was about to ask if she could try holding him as an apology, but then the door swung open, carrying with it the scent of flowers, of mossy stones, of cool water and the sizzling sting of magic. Luna drew closer to her mother, who placed a steadying hand on her back. 

The faeries came to the rolling, somber beat of a drum, like an empty log banging against a riverbank. _Thud._ Three wood nymphs lurched and creaked through the tall doors, their hair hanging like willow leaves over long faces. _Thud._ Wind sprites whistled and giggled and twisted around the nymphs and the gathered guests of the court, flipping skirts and capes, upending wigs and making the high chandeliers sway and glitter. _Thud._ The high faeries trooped in, golden-eyed and beautiful as a bundle of knives, all sharp edges and smiles that bordered just on the edge of cruelty. Luna heard that even the kindest of them once liked to lure people into the woods, only to turn them out a few hundred years later, wise and beautiful and _changed,_ doomed to never belong to the world of human beings again. Luna’s family retainer was one of those humans, and Luna looked behind her to see how she was doing. Gentiana only smiled, her eyes closed as always, dark hair swinging in her face.

One of the high faeries stepped forward. He had dirty blond hair and wore a suit nearly as fine as a king’s, and he bowed to King Regis and Queen Aulea first, as his hosts, then to Luna’s mother. 

“Your majesties,” he said. “The Seelie Court—“ he said it like that, pronouncing each word like a spell, like something precious— “thanks you for your hospitality, and would like to offer the usual gifts.”

A puff of wind blew past Luna’s face, and a small storm cloud coalesced at the high faerie’s side, turning into a young man with wild blond hair and lightning in his eyes. Then one of the nymphs stepped up, and Luna couldn’t help smiling. He had to be a flower fairy, not a proper tree nymph at all—flowers bloomed and budded in his hair and dropped over his broad shoulders when he bowed. 

The high faerie came first, because even with the fey folk, there was an order to follow, and let his hand hover over the prince. “Prince Noctis,” he said. “To you, I give beauty.”

Luna held her tongue. Beauty didn’t seem very useful, but she supposed as king, Noctis wouldn’t do much ruling, so he had to have _something._ Still, she didn’t understand why Queen Aulea’s face lit up, or why King Regis looked so relieved. Maybe beauty was important in Lucis. She looked down at her dress, and wondered, vaguely, if she was beautiful enough for them, too.

By the time she looked up, the second faerie, the one with the flowers, was leaning over Prince Noctis.

“I give you grace,” he said. “Catlike, adaptive and flowing. Your feet will never stumble, and your hands will never falter.”

 _That_ was more practical, at least. Luna was scheduled to start learning the sword in a few years, and she knew _she_ could definitely stand to use a little extra grace.

The storm faerie pattered up the steps, but he hadn’t gone more than a few feet before the doors to the great hall opened again, slamming against the stone pillars with a bang that shook the chandeliers and made the lights at the far wall go tumbling out of their sconces. Attendants scattered to put out the flames, but Luna wasn’t watching them. No, she was watching the door, from which a blackness poured out like a mist unrolling in the mountains. 

Luna’s mother grabbed her by the collar of her uncomfortable dress and shoved her back, hidden behind her and Gentiana. Luna peered around Gentiana’s cloak just in time to see a figure emerge from the dark.

He had long, curled horns like one of the highland goats of Tenebrae, but there were streaks of red in them, glowing and pulsing like a heartbeat. His red hair was tied back in a braid, and his smile—gods, his smile. It didn’t stop where normal smiles were supposed to, but kept going, almost splitting his face in two, and he turned that horrible grin to the dais, spreading his arms. The faeries of the Seelie Court hissed and spat, but all it took was one glance and they were cowering with the humans, glared into silence. 

“King Regis,” the strange faerie said. “Queen Aulea. How _delightful_ it is to see you again. It’s been too long, don’t you think?”

“Ardyn,” King Regis said. His voice was short, pained. 

“And is this the child?” Ardyn’s smile stretched further, and his jaw shifted to reveal sharp, curving teeth. There was something black dripping from his right eye, too, like ink spilled over a parchment. “What a fetching young creature. Odd, though. I seem to have misplaced my invitation to his name day.”

“You weren’t—“ the storm faerie began, but they were silenced by the flower faerie, who clamped a hand over his mouth. But the damage was already done.

“Weren’t what?” Ardyn said. He tilted his head. “Wanted?”

“Oh, no, your excellency,” King Regis said. “We thought this would be too humble for one of your status.”

“A nice attempt, I suppose,” Ardyn said, “but no.” He placed a foot on the first step leading up to the dais, and the guards placed along the walls drew their swords. He flicked his hand, and Gentiana whirled around, grabbing Luna’s head and pressing her face into the sleeve of her jacket. 

“Don’t look up,” she whispered.

That’s when the screaming started.

It went on, and on, and on, horrible burbling screams, like someone had dunked the guards underwater only to drag them up again. Luna clung to Gentiana and wondered how she knew to turn so quickly. She wondered what Gen had seen, back when she was in the faerie court so many hundreds of years ago. She wondered if she’d ever forget. 

“Please,” King Regis was saying. 

“I’m afraid we’re past niceties,” Ardyn said. He was so close. Gods, he was so close. Luna could feel the dark mist curling around her ankles. “No, I must give my own blessing to the sweet boy. For you see, it is only right that a prince grow to be graceful and beautiful, beloved and kind.”

“Thank you,” Queen Aulea said.

“Do you?” asked Ardyn. Luna clenched her hands in Gentiana’s cloak. “No matter. But into all life some rain must fall. When the boy is not two decades old, he will, oh, let’s say he’ll prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel.” There was a short, bewildered silence, and Ardyn laughed. It wasn’t a very pleasant laugh, all things considered. “And die, of course.”

“You—“ the king began, but someone must have silenced _him,_ because Luna heard no more than muffled cursing. Then there were sharp footfalls, and the darkness receded, and Gentiana slowly loosened her grip. 

The doors of the great hall slammed shut.

People were sobbing. Luna could hear them close by, and she peeled away from Gentiana to find her mother holding Queen Aulea, Prince Noctis cradled between them. Queen Aulea was weeping in a way that a good queen wasn’t supposed to, and King Regis was shaking, his hand reaching for a dragon-head cane on the edge of his throne. Luna looked to Ravus, whose face was pale, and Ravus grabbed her hand. 

“Um.”

Luna was the first to see the storm faerie hovering at the edge of the dais. He kept rocking forward and back, awkward and unsure, and the lightning in his eyes crawled all over his face and neck, mirroring his mood. “Um,” he said again, a little louder this time. The king looked at him, and his cheeks darkened. “I haven’t. I haven’t given my blessing yet.”

Queen Aulea turned, Prince Noctis clutched to her chest. “You can reverse this?” she cried. “You can save him?”

“I… I can’t reverse the spell,” the faerie said. “But I can make it… better. Different. I can give him a chance.”

“Please,” the queen said, holding out her son. The storm faerie swallowed thickly and held sparking hands over the boy.

“Hey,” he said. “You won’t die, kid. You’ll just. Sleep, for a while. And—and the curse’ll break with true love’s kiss,” he added, grimacing at the king and queen, “because that’s the only way a curse like this _can_ be broken. You fight power with power. The love has to be true, because it needs to… needs to cancel out the hate that _he_ feels.”

He stepped back, bowing his head. “That’s the best I can do,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

King Regis nodded stiffly. “Thank you,” he said. “We… my dear.” He turned to his wife. “We must take steps. Our son must be kept safe—we can never let this come to pass.”

Luna wasn’t sure how well that would work—Gentiana said that all faerie curses worked eventually, no matter what you did—but she didn’t get to hear any more. She was ushered away, hurried into a back hallway where they wouldn’t pass whatever Ardyn made of the guards, where she and Ravus squeezed each other’s hands so hard their fingers were sore, and the soft sobbing of Queen Aulea disappeared in the flurry of footsteps and rustle of expensive clothes.

It would be a long, long time until she saw Prince Noctis again, and by then, it would almost be too late.


	2. Chapter 2

The forest at the border of Lucis was uncommonly crowded for early spring: Beaten roads thundered with the progress of hundreds of feet and wagons, and families passed along side paths, followed by dogs and rented chocobos. Entire caravans would stop for picnics on the side of the road, and local farmers set up stalls selling bags of dried fruit and charms for safety. It was like a fair, the locals said. A fair passing through, thrumming with barely restrained excitement.

Most of this, Prince Ravus pointed out, was Luna’s fault.

“If you didn’t stop for every lost cat and leaking drainpipe, we’d be in Insomnia by now,” he said, leaning out the window of the carriage that Luna was, technically, supposed to be riding in. “Mother will send a messenger for us soon enough.”

“We’re making perfectly good time, Ravus,” Luna said. She picked a strawberry from a mesh bag and held it out. Ravus sighed and accepted it. “You’ve read the same reports I have. If I don’t let the people know that I’ll still be there for them—“

“Shoveling their snow,” Ravus said. “Guarding their crossroads. Scaring mother half to death.”

Luna didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. “No one rules from a tower,” she said. “The queens of Tenebrae are—“

“Working queens,” Ravus finished. “Yes, I know. But I’d like you to be a _living_ one, too. You don’t have to take your duties so… so literally. Mother never went running about in the muck with the common folk, you know.”

Luna glanced at her brother sidelong. She loved Ravus, but sometimes it was hard to remember why. While Luna learned swordplay from the queen’s guard at home, Ravus insisted on a private instructor. When Luna was helping doctors during a spot of plague in the city, sanitizing equipment and unloading supplies from covered wagons, Ravus was in his books. When Luna met with ambassadors from faerie and went with them, under guard, to frown and nod at the damage done to their sacred trees, Ravus stayed behind, debating philosophy and fighting with his friends over their least favorite poets. There were days when the distance between them felt vast as an ocean, riddled with treacherous depths and shoals, and Luna had no way of crossing it.

“You can't expect me to sit still and do nothing when people call on me,” Luna said, in a soft voice. Ravus picked up on it, and had the decency to drop his superior tone.

“I know,” he said. “But this is excessive. You're stalling, sister.”

Luna didn't answer. He wasn't wrong, and that bothered her. She didn't think she wasn’t _ready_ to rule. It was that she was fairly certain, no matter how her mother assured her that Prince Noctis was perfectly suitable, that she was doomed to rule alone. Even if Prince Noctis _did_ live through his curse, wherever he was, he’d grown up sheltered, hidden away in isolation. It was worse than Ravus, really. What kind of a king could a coddled, cursed boy possibly become? 

“I believe I’ll go for a ride,” Luna said. “Umbra and Pryna will need a run before we head out.”

“Luna,” Ravus said. Luna whistled. “Sister.”

Luna gave Ravus her best, practiced smile. “Don't worry, Rav,” she said, as her dogs came bounding over, tails whipping up dust. “I’ll be safe as houses.”

She didn't bother waiting for a response. Her chocobo, a golden creature named Wretch, clucked softly as she swung into the saddle. She clicked her tongue and twitched the reins, leading her dogs off the road and onto one of the side paths, far from Ravus and his disquieting remarks.

The woods embraced her, muffling all sound as she set off at a trot. Umbra and Pryna kept within the protective stones at the border of the path, which must have been placed there as a formality: They were in an in-between place, a quiet pocket of land belonging neither to the faerie courts of Tenebrae nor Lucis, home only to the birds and the beasts. The trees there were old, with thick canopies that blocked the light, and Luna found herself smiling up at them as she passed. What was a princess to a tree? Just a woman, another creature scurrying about in the underbrush, there and gone in the span of a breath.

There was a rustling in the bushes, and Pryna barked, veering off the path. Luna whistled, but Umbra was already following his sister, leaping into the brush with a growl. A small, pale blue creature burst into the open, it's large tail bristling, and looked back at Luna for one fearful second before racing into the green distance.

“No,” Luna said, when Pryna tried to follow. “No, Pryna, that isn't a fox! Umbra, for gods’ sakes!”

But her dogs were gone, streaking after the poor creature. Luna groaned and dug in her heels, and Wretch took off after them. 

She caught up to her dogs at the bank of a creek, the both of them standing in bewildered horror as they tried to track where their prey had gone. Luna jumped down from Wretch and pointed at her feet. 

Umbra’s shoulders lowered in shame. Pryna tilted her head.

“That's what you get for chasing a fey creature,” Luna said, speaking low. “ _Bad_ Umbra. Bad Pryna.” This time, even Pryna looked cowed. Luna raised her head to the empty air. “Fair one, I do apologize.”

She listened for a response, struggling not to lay a hand on her sword hilt. Faeries were fickle, after all. Just because this one hadn't cursed her dogs yet didn't mean it wasn't done, and she’d heard enough from Gentiana to be wary. She held her breath, and heard nothing but the whisper of the creek, the panting of her dogs, and the jingling of Wretch’s tack.

“Okay, Specs.”

Luna nearly jumped out of her skin. Umbra and Pryna stood to attention, but she pointed down again, giving them the signal to stay. She tied Wretch to a tree branch, ordered them to guard, and crept towards the voice by the creek.

“I’m almost twenty, you know,” the voice said. Luna stopped by a large oak leaning over the water, and stood on her toes to peer over a gap in the branches. A young man stood on the bank, his feet wrapped in strips of battered leather, his shirt open at the collar, addressing a cloak and hat perched on a tree branch. He pointed his finger at it, paused, and whirled on his heel. 

He couldn't be a human man, Luna knew. Not with a face like that, beautiful on the verge of ethereal, even with messy hair and dirt smudged on his cheek. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Specs,” he said again. “I know _you're_ seven hundred and whatever, but I’m. Hold on, no, let's start over.” He turned to the cloak. “Specs, you can't keep me locked up in the house forever. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m an adult! Do you know how many human beings I’ve seen since I was five? Three. Three! Who lives like that? It's not like I’m, I don't know, sneaking off to…”

He paused. “You know what? Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve been sneaking off for months. Maybe I’ve found a girl, right, and we’re--”

“You found a _girl?_ ”

Luna yelped as the tree bearing the man’s cloak transformed in a flurry of leaves and twigs, shaping themself into the form of a nymph. They clutched the cloak and hat in two spindly arms. 

“Damn it, Meadowsweet,” the man said. “I was just getting somewhere.”

“Who is she?” the nymph asked. The cloak shivered. “What's she like?”

“Who?”

“The girl!”

The man’s cheeks flushed pink. “That's. Uh. I didn't. She isn't real. I made her up.”

“Oh.” The nymph looked temporarily crestfallen. “Well, what _would_ she be like?”

The man sat on the bank, unwrapping his feet from their bindings. “I don't know. Like a person, I guess. What do you know about girls, anyways?” he asked.

“Plenty,” said the nymph. “I see them all the time. They're always saying things like…” The nymph struck a pose, flapping the cape. “Hand me the reins! Mother, I want ribbons. Market prices are high this season. Things like that.”

“Huh.” The man was smiling a little as he dipped his feet in the creek. “Sounds like you're a real expert.”

“Of course!” The nymph preened. “But what do you want to talk to a human for? Your guardians are nice enough, and you know me and Carbuncle and Gil.”

“Think about it like…” The man kicked up a spray of water. “You're a solitary nymph, right? No alliances?”

“You won't catch me bowing for anyone,” the nymph agreed.

“Right. So it's like that. I _want_ to be free to do what I want, but the guys are kind of like a… a court of their own. So I can't.”

“They're your family,” the nymph said. “It's different.” 

The man shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, and twisted around to look at the nymph, but as he did, his gaze passed right over Luna’s and stayed there. Luna’s hands curled on the tree branch.

Water sloshed as the man leapt to his feet. The nymph turned to look, gasped, and promptly changed into a tree again. Luna ducked under the protection of the tree branch, and the man’s gaze lit on her sword, gleaming in its sheath with the wicked promise of pure iron.

“Oh, shit,” he said.

“Please,” Luna said. She stepped forward, and the man fell back, somehow remaining perfectly poised even as he staggered into the shadows. “Wait, don't be afraid.”

The man froze. He stared at her, intent and careful, slowly easing his way back into the light. He took in her braided hair, her fine, expensive trousers and boots, and the white jacket cut trim to her waist. “What _are_ you?” he asked. 

“Ask the girl expert,” Luna said. 

“Wait, really?” A small smile eased the hard lines of fear at his mouth. He swept a hand through his disheveled hair, and his bare feet sank into the grass with the steady balance of a dancer. He smiled a little broader, eyes crinkling. “You know, this’ll make you the first girl I’ve ever met.”

“No pressure, I’m sure,” Luna said. The man bowed, and Luna covered her mouth with a hand: It was an old bow, hardly used outside the Seelie Court. 

“Did I do it right?” he asked, looking up with more than a little concern. Luna grinned.

“Yes,” she said, and bowed back. “I rather think you have.”


	3. Chapter 3

Luna couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down in the grass on a warm afternoon just for the sake of it. Every picnic and garden party had been arranged for her since the age of twelve, whether Luna enjoyed lounging in the grass and talking politics or not. It wasn't something she ever stopped to think about. At twenty-four, she let the soft clover of the bank tickle her heels as Pryna and Umbra rolled around her, and wished she'd had a little more time to explore on her own.

The man had said to call him Briar, which was probably an alias. All faeries went by one, so it made sense for a man raised among them to follow their example. He lived with his godparents a little ways away, he said, but he shied from any prying questions on _that_ front, and seemed much more interested in learning every aspect of Luna's life.

"You're betrothed?" he asked in a horrified tone, when Luna had let slip, in the vaguest terms, why she was on the way to Lucis. "Humans still do that? Even the Day Court stopped, maybe six hundred years ago."

"Some human families are rather old-fashioned," Luna said, smiling at his look of outrage. "I don't mind it much."

"I would." Briar scratched Pryna's ears, earning her eternal favor, and looked up at Luna through dark lashes. "It's bad enough being told where to go and who to talk to. Do you even know them, whoever they are?"

"I met him once," Luna said, and Briar made a strangled sound of disgust. "When he was born."

"You have it worse than me," Briar said. "Marrying a baby? No thanks, I'm good."

"He's probably not a child anymore, you know," Luna pointed out. The look on Briar's face shifted, and his cheeks flushed a ruddy pink.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, I forgot."

"Do all the folk grow so slowly?" Luna asked. "I have a friend who lived with them for a time, but she says they never seemed to age at all."

Briar raised his brows. "You know one of the stolen people? I thought they all died in the war."

"I never heard of a war. How long ago was this?"

Briar shrugged. "Thirty years, give or take. The guy we don't talk about, the one who runs the Night Court, he challenged the Queen of the Day Court. Thought if he killed off all her human lovers, he'd make her lose her cool, you know?"

A chill ran down Luna's spine. Gentiana often spoke of the Queen of the Seelie Court, and even her grim warnings and tendency to fill Luna and Ravus' pockets with protective stones couldn't hide the fact that some small part of her missed her old life. Luna caught her turning her chin towards the forest on quiet afternoons, or fiddling with the gems on her necklace, the last favor her queen had bestowed before casting her out. The thought of Gentiana being killed in a faerie's dispute made Luna shudder.

Briar placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said. "Don't worry. If your friend's safe now, they'll stay that way. The war only lasted ten years."

"There's no record of it in Tenebrae," Luna said. The creek felt less peaceful, now, a slow malice running beneath the gurgle of water and the rustle of leaves overhead. 

"The folk keep to themselves," Briar said. He tossed an acorn in the air, and Umbra and Pryna silently followed its movement. 

"They're keeping you to themselves, as well," Luna said. "Why won't they let you talk to anyone?"

"Too dangerous," Briar said, and gave Luna a half smile. "I got into trouble when I was a kid, so they think I'm gonna get kidnapped every time I step out of the house." His voice lowered in a scandalized whisper. "Or worse, I might make a friend."

"Perish the thought." Luna watched him try to trick Pryna into losing sight of the acorn, and turned a small, weak thought over in her mind. "You know the road isn't far from here."

"Sure." Briar pretended to toss the acorn, and Umbra stood in excitement before he realized the trick. He grumbled and hunkered down, glowering at Briar darkly.

"Then perhaps..."

"Sister!"

Luna cursed under her breath, and Briar scrambled to his feet. Ravus' voice had exactly the sort of abrasive, peace-killing tone that would send a faerie into hiding, and sure enough, Luna's new friend was slinging on his cloak and backing towards the trees.

"It's fine," she said. "It's my brother."

"If I hear," Ravus boomed, "that my dearest, only sister has broken her neck tripping over a tree branch somewhere--"

"Don't go," Luna said, but it was too late. She could see it in Briar's face as he shoved a cap over his messy hair, casting his lovely dark eyes in shadow. "Can I see you again, perhaps? I... I'll be some ways off, but I can ride here..."

Briar glanced behind her, where Ravus was making no effort to hide the sound of his approach, and back to Luna. Then he dug in the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small stone figure. He held it out, and Luna unthinkingly took it. 

A miniature stone fox sat in her palm, the ruby horn at its forehead glinting in the sunlight.

"Keep it with you," Briar whispered. "I can't promise it'll work, but if it's with you when you sleep, it might--" There was a crash behind her, and Briar drew back. "Guys? I need cover. I'll see you soon, I hope."

Luna would have followed, but as Briar fell back, the branches of the trees around him came to life, bending and twisting and shifting so that within a few seconds, Luna stood before a dark wall of leaves. 

Ravus charged in a moment later, holding Wretch's lead in one hand, two spots of color burning high on his cheeks. He opened his mouth to scold, but Luna whirled on him so quickly that he backed his chocobo up a step.

"Ravus!" she cried, closing her fist around the stone fox. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you!"

Ravus took a breath. "You," he gasped, "don't know--"

Luna yanked Wretch's lead out of his grip and climbed on, clicking her tongue for her dogs. "Honestly!" she said. "Stomping around in the woods like a _beast!_ "

She left Ravus sitting alone on his chocobo by the river, mouth opening and shutting like a fish on a dock, before confusion finally gave way.

"Now, wait one minute!"

 

\---

 

Noctis Lucis Caelum, known to some as Briar, ducked and wove through the branches of the tree nymphs that bordered his home, taking care not to step too hard on any roots or sprouts. The nymphs whispered to each other as he passed; _Did you hear? A girl! A human! A soldier, in the forest!_ but he didn't bother to ask them to keep it down. Trees were notorious gossips, anyways, and it was bound to come out whether he wanted it to or not. 

The cottage in which he was raised appeared over the crest of a small hill, the enchanted thatch still fresh after nearly nineteen years, paint gleaming, cheery red door propped open with a brick. A wide patch of flowers doubled to reveal itself to be one of his godfathers, Gladio. Dark red roses budded in his hair and along his shoulders, reflecting the anxiety that didn't show in his face, but Noct just grinned. The buds stopped in the middle of unfurling, and Gladio squinted.

"Don't you look sunny today," he said. 

"Do I?" Noct paused, rocking back on his heel. "Guess so. Lookin' good, big guy. Like the roses. Can I have one?"

"What?" Gladio twisted to look at the flowers clustering at his shoulder. "No. Thought we told you to get berries, Noct."

"We never eat them, anyways." Noct strode through the door. "I'm home!"

"Shoes _off,_ " called a voice from the second floor, but Noct didn't bother, hopping over the foyer to snatch one of the pastries off a tray by the kitchen. Prompto, his youngest godfather at four hundred and sixty-two, materialized with a crackle of static a few feet away. Lightning crawled over his hair, and he raked a hand through it, twirling the lightning around his finger and popping it in his mouth. "'Ey, 'iar."

"Hey, Prom," Noct said, setting the half eaten pastry down. "These are good. Specs make 'em?"

"Yeah, but you're late," Prompto said. "What kept y--eaaah!" He yelped as Noct grabbed him by the hands and spun him around.

"Only the best thing ever," Noct said. 

"Yeah?" Prompto smiled nervously. "What was it?"

A girl, Noct didn't say. A wondrous, strange, perfect girl, with straw-colored hair and muscles in her arms that flexed when she moved, and a sword made of iron. And she didn't run, not like the last merchant Noct approached, or scream or pull out charms for protection. She'd smiled at him. Laughed. Told him her name.

Luna. 

"Nothing!" Noct said. "Just... Nothing."

"O-kay," Prompto said. He let himself be wheeled around the room a second time, then disappeared from Noct's hands, reforming in a puff by the door. "Glad you're out of your funk, anyway."

"What funk?" Noct climbed up the stairs. "I was in a funk?"

"Yes," said his oldest godfather, leaning on the doorframe to the largest bedroom. "I do believe you were."

Ignis was a high faerie of the Seelie Court, and therefore seemed to think that lying about in the garden all day like Gladio or chasing clouds like Prompto was a useless exercise. He kept the cottage stocked with books and maps, all on diplomacy, etiquette, and the history of Faerie. Noct had a lifetime of lessons behind him already, and could tell that Ignis was preparing himself for a new assignment.

"You know, Specs," he said. "Maybe all it took was getting a little fresh air."

Ignis peered at him over his glasses, frowning slightly. "I suppose."

"Anyways, I gotta get ready," Noct said. "Sunset's soon, yeah?"

"As always," Ignis said, clearly amused despite himself. "And what happens then?"

"Not much," Noct said. "But if I play my cards right, I might have a date with the moon."


	4. Chapter 4

There was no helping it. Luna had to ride in the carriage under the watchful eye of her brother, who seemed to think she’d disappear if he so much as glanced out the window. It was her own fault, of course, but she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed some sort of a test, back at the creek with Briar.

He had to be a stolen child. Captured by the faeries, raised among them, forbidden from engaging in the outside world. As the future queen of Tenebrae _and_ Lucis, Luna should have been able to convince him to come with her. Instead, she’d spent the afternoon talking about her betrothal, and Ravus spooked him off. 

She pressed a thumb to the fox in her hand. What was it Briar said? Something about sleeping? Dreams? It was all so muddled, now that Luna was in the dark of the carriage. The day by the creek could have been nothing but a trick played by the fox, trying to lure her into coming back for Briar alone. It could have been anything. But all the same, when the tents were pitched along the side of the road and the guards stationed at a tight perimeter, Luna climbed into her pallet and slipped the fox under her pillow.

Her dream began like always, in the middle of the Lucian throne room. Most of her dreams began there, with Luna hiding behind Gentiana as darkness crept through the cracks of the door, as guards writhed at the walls, as a child wailed in Queen Aulea’s arms. 

This time, however, the throne room was empty. The high walls gleamed as though the pillars themselves had been newly polished, and moonlight streamed through the high windows to leave bright patches on the marble. Luna looked down at herself to find she was dressed in one of the thin formal gowns from her early teens, and her hands and arms were smaller, not quite as filled-out with years of weapons training and racing after her mother. 

Before her, something squeaked. She looked up, and saw a small blue fox, the living twin of the stone figure, staring at her with wide, liquid eyes. Its ears twitched forward, alert, and it squeaked again.

At her feet, words formed on the marble floor, as though etched by an invisible hand.

_Hello, girl!_

“Hello, fox,” Luna said. Her voice was higher than she remembered. The fox squeaked again, and the words on the floor shifted.

_Carbuncle. I’m glad I brought you to my boy. Your dreams are beautiful, even if your dogs aren’t very clever._

“Were you the one they chased earlier?” Luna asked. “I’m so sorry. I hope they didn’t hurt you.”

 _I was only half real, anyways,_ said Carbuncle. _Do you want to see my boy again?_

“Briar?” Luna took a step, and the fox pranced in place. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

Carbuncle tossed its head, and light flashed on its ruby horn. Then, in the nature of all dreams, the walls of the throne room fell away to reveal a small forest glade, thick with blooming clover, with a small, rickety dock over a dark pond. Luna stumbled a little, unbalanced by the change, and was surprised to find that she could feel the clover under her bare feet. She could smell the pond as well, the rot of the dock, and the faintest hint of honeysuckle on the breeze. She looked to Carbuncle, who darted off towards the dock, where a boy with messy black hair and ragged shorts sat with his feet in the water. 

He turned, and his eyes widened in shock. 

“Luna!” Briar dropped the fishing rod in his hands, scrambling up onto the dock. Carbuncle wove around his feet as he rushed down to meet her, but he didn’t even trip, dancing over the fox unconsciously as he ran. He wrapped Luna in a tight embrace, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. 

“You’re wearing a dress,” he said. “It looks nice. Is that what you looked like when you were younger?”

“I don’t know,” Luna said. “Briar. What _is_ this place? Are you actually here? Am I?”

Briar grinned. It was an infectious smile, and when he pulled back, he slipped his hand in Luna’s, much bolder than he’d been that afternoon. “It’s Carbuncle’s thing,” he said. “He can help people… travel, in dreams. Meet each other, sometimes. This is as real as it gets.”

“And you can meet anyone?” Luna asked. She let Briar lead her to the dock. The boards were damp, and his grip on her fingers was reassuringly tight. “Like who?”

“Loads of people. My godfathers are always dreaming about each other, so I don’t go there, but I’ve been in the dreams of the Seelie Queen a few times. She’s pretty nice. She has this joke, right, where she calls me _your highness_ and I call her Molly, and—But that’s. I mean. It’s not like we’re meeting like _that._ ”

Luna had to laugh. “I’m sure you’re a perfect gentleman. Can your dream space be anything? A field, an arena…?”

“I guess,” Briar said, and swung their joined hands a little. “What do you want?”

“The ballroom in Tenebrae,” Luna said. “Full of people.”

“They won’t be _real_ people,” Briar warned. “Carbuncle, can you do it?”

The fox squeaked, and the water on the pond rippled, forming the words. _Of course, boy!_

“Agreeable, aren’t the—“ Luna squeaked herself as the glade melted around them, giving way to the largest ballroom in Tenebrae’s royal manor. Chandeliers winked above them, dappling a roof painted like a starry night, and dancers whirled around them, masks over their faces that glittered and rustled with feathers and diamonds. 

Briar had a mask as well, a black one with glass beads at the sides, and he was taller, older than he’d been even at the creek. He even had a beard, though it was a little thin, and he held himself straight, his dark suit accented by a cape that draped over his shoulder. 

“Wow,” he said. “You’re something else.”

Luna looked down. She wore a dress suit in blue, like her mother’s, with handmade leather boots and a cloak so long that it looked like a skirt when it whirled around her legs. She touched her hair, which was shorter than usual, and felt the fine threads of the Tenebraean crown dangling from her brow. 

“You look like a queen,” Briar said. “Or a prince, out of one of the fairytales I used to read.” He raised a hand to her hair, and lifted one of the silver threads, letting it spill over his fingers. “I think I kind of want to fight your betrothed, now.”

Luna smiled. “I hate to say it, Briar, but you’re being unforgivably rude.”

Briar jerked back. “What?” Luna grabbed his hand before he could yank it away, and guided it down to her waist. Around them, the faceless figures of Luna’s dream whirled and spun and bowed, sweeping the floor with wide skirts and buckled shoes.

“Here we are,” Luna said, taking Briar’s other hand, “in a ballroom made just for us, and you haven’t even _thought_ of asking for a dance.”


	5. Chapter 5

The sun rose through the branches of the woods, a thumbprint of fire amid a mass of gold and purple clouds. The royal camp of Tenebrae was only just beginning to stir, and smoke spiraled from a small campfire on the side of the road. Luna changed quickly, eschewing her formal wear for a comfortable riding outfit, and was still buttoning her jacket as Ravus scrambled, half-clothed, out of his own tent and into the light.

"Morning, Ravus," Luna said. She smiled up at him, and Ravus hesitated, temporarily thrown off balance. "Wonderful night."

Ravus' hair was disheveled from a night spent on the cold, packed dirt of the road, and his eyes were dark with shadow. "How?"

Luna pressed her hands to his face, puffing his cheeks. "Oh, Ravus," she said. "I could use some of your poetry right now."

"Pardon?"

"Poetry," Luna said, breaking free of him to twirl, a little awkwardly, on the dew-damp earth. "Something about the soul, maybe. You have so many books on the subject. Ravus?"

Ravus jerked again, still stooped over. "Yes?"

"Have you ever danced so much that your whole body aches? But you feel light, too, as though you can just..." She took Ravus' hand and lifted it, spinning beneath it. Ravus let out a surprised laugh.

"Lunafreya!" His smile, for the first time in ages, was genuine. "What brings this on?"

"I don't know. Something I saw in a dream. Dance with me, Rav." 

"I don't know if..."

Luna took Ravus' hands, pulling him in a quick dance along the first line of tents. A few members of their retinue were already up, and one or two whistled and clapped as they trailed to a halt. Ravus was laughing, lines smoothed from his pinched brow, making him look younger, brighter, more like the brother Luna used to know.

Luna squeezed his hands. "We may not agree on anything, Ravus, but I suppose you're worth keeping around."

"You aren't half bad yourself," Ravus said. 

Luna walked alongside the carriage for most of the morning, and for once, Ravus didn't object. Lucis was still a week away, and they weren't due to meet her mother's advance party at Lestallum until the next day. So Luna watched the woods as they passed, listened for the rustle of small creatures that could lead Umbra and Pryna astray, and held the Carbuncle figurine tight in her palm.

That night, she found Briar waiting for her, sitting on the throne room steps with Carbuncle curled up on his lap. He was looking to the door, where familiar shadows were already starting to creep through the cracks, biting his lower lip absently. He looked at odds with himself; His straight-backed posture was as formal as Ravus', but his feet were tapping erratically on the floor, jiggling with nerves. When Luna leaned over him to scratch Carbuncle behind the ears, Briar jumped so hard that he knocked his forehead against Luna's cheek.

"Oh, gods," he said, turning to her. "You okay?"

"It's my own fault," Luna said, rubbing her cheek. "You looked lost in thought. Did something happen?"

Briar shrugged. "Nothing happened. Like always. I was thinking, actually, that maybe we should try another dream. Someone _else's_ dream."

"Would they mind?" Luna asked. Carbuncle shook itself out and hopped off Briar's lap, bouncing down the steps. 

Briar smiled and tucked errant bangs behind one ear. Luna longed to copy the motion, feeling those fine strands of dark hair running through her own fingers. She stopped herself, but only just.

"Don't worry," Briar said, taking her hand. "She never minds."

Carbuncle flicked its horn, and the walls of the Citadel gave way again. Heavy drapes and tapestries fell on all sides, boxing them into a magnificent bedroom made of carved cedar, with saplings and buds of trees sprouting up from between the drapes like green fingers seeking out the light. The floor was thick with a carpet of pine needles, and most of the room was taken up by an enormous bed, heavy with furs and comforters. Six or seven creatures--Luna wasn't sure she could call them people, not with the number of odd limbs and eyes that burned like flame--lounged on the bed, tangled up in furs and blankets, and Briar took one look at the scene and flushed darkly.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, no."

"My prince!" One of the creatures sat up, and the others on the bed disappeared around them in a puff of mist. The only one who remained looked like a petite, blue-skinned woman with long white braids looped behind her head, striking white eyes, and not much by way of clothes. She shrugged on a fur coat, which covered her a little, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Damn, Molly, close the curtain next time," Briar said. 

"You shouldn't just walk into a dream uninvited, my prince," the fairy said. She opened her arms, and Briar stepped into them. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I forgive you. And who is this?"

Luna's shoulders bumped into the wall. Tassels from a rough tapestry brushed her shoulders, and her feet prickled with the build up of needles around her ankles.

"Your majesty," she whispered.

The queen of the Seelie Court smiled warmly at Luna. "My," she said. "How you've grown."

Briar looked from Luna to the queen, brows knit in confusion. "You've met?" he asked.

"When I was... young," Luna said. "She visited Tenebrae."

Gentiana had disappeared for days when it happened, locking herself in her room and refusing to leave even when Luna pounded on her door and pleaded in a thin, very un-princess-like tone. So Luna was forced to stand alone next to her mother while Queen Shiva of the good folk approached at the head of a parade of grinning monsters, decked in a crown of black ice. She'd looked down at Luna then, with much the same look as she was giving her now, and patted her cheek. An icy pink handprint remained on Luna's face for hours.

"Come here, child," the queen said. Luna took a short breath, and the queen glanced at Briar. "You didn't warn your friend? Darling, that wasn't very gallant of you."

"But Luna can handle anything," Briar said, bewildered. "Last night, she was talking about... Well, I didn't think..."

That settled it. Faced with Briar's misplaced confidence, there was nothing Luna could do but step forward. She bowed, and the queen laughed and took her hand. Her fingers were brittle and thin, fragile as the bones of a bird.

The air around them went still and cold, and Luna looked around her to find Briar and Carbuncle frozen in place, Briar's hand outstretched mere inches from Luna's shoulder. She looked back to the queen, who crinkled her eyes in a smile.

"I thought we should talk," she said. "Queen to queen."

"I'm not crowned yet, your majesty," Luna said. The queen scoffed.

"Formalities. Come." She backed up, leading Luna to the bed. She climbed into it backwards, but Luna didn't follow, holding onto the bedpost instead. "What do you think of Briar, my dear?"

"He's..." Be careful, a small voice in her mind warned. "Very nice."

"Yes, I do adore him," the queen said. "I wanted him to be one of my pages, you know, but humans grow so very fast, and he's already claimed."

Luna's hand tightened on the post. "By his godfathers?" she asked. "Is he a, a changeling?"

"Oh, no," the queen said. "He isn't claimed by them. They're sweet, of course, but not very powerful. No, he belongs to... well. He _could_ belong to many people. My old lover. The king. You."

"I'd never think to own someone," Luna said. "What do you mean, the king? Your husband, I thought he--"

"Died? Oh, yes." The queen didn't look too torn up about the thought. "No, I mean another king. You've seen him yourself, when you were very young. Do you remember?"

Luna thought of black mist curling under the throne room doors, the too-wide grimace of a demonic smile. "The king of the Unseelie Court?"

"Mm? Yes, him, too."

Luna stared at Briar, caught in a half-smile, messy hair swinging at his ears. "What would he want with Briar?"

"Who knows?" The queen lay back on the bed, looking up at the canopy. "We change our minds so often. One day he may want Briar as a fine little ornament for his hall. One day he may want to rip out his innards for a fortune. I would not," she added, as Luna reeled against the bedpost, "suggest you let that happen, oh queen."

"How do I..." Luna pushed off the post, stumbling for Briar. She lay a hand on his arm, relieved to find it warm. "Is he safe?"

"He's as safe as you are," the queen said. "I try to keep him wary, but he's too good of a soul. It's his weakness, you know. He needs someone practical in his life." 

"I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him," Luna whispered. The queen laughed, deep and infectious, and sat up on her elbows.

"Oh, sweetness," she said. "You have no idea."

Time resumed with a jerk, sending Briar crashing into Luna's chest. He held her by the arms for balance, looked to the bed, and groaned. "Molly, you didn't."

The queen cackled. "She's a delight," she said, and Briar blushed to his ears. "I know you never listen to me, my prince, but heed this: I'd certainly keep this one if I were you. Now go. Explore. And mind me, darlings. I very rarely give such good advice for free."


	6. Chapter 6

"He's planning something," Prompto said, drifting gently over Gladio's flowerbed. After two hundred years of the nymph’s company, Prompto had learned long ago how to float without disrupting petals or straining tender stalks, but a small wind kicked up nevertheless, bending the blossoms as he went. 

"Yeah," Gladio said. Only his chest and knees were visible under the flowers that bloomed around him. "He thinks he's bein' real clever about it."

Ignis sighed. He was at the patio table, stitching together the intricate seams of Noct's twentieth birthday gift. It was a delicate suit in royal black, with gold trim at the shoulders and the emblem of the Lucian royal family on the chest. "He isn't leaving his room at night, at least. Our alarm spells haven't been broken yet."

"Window _and_ door?" Gladio asked.

"What precisely do you take me for, love?" Ignis tugged fiercely at a difficult stitch. "Of course I checked."

"Bad timing for a prank, though," Prompto said. He blew in Gladio's face, sending a small strand of lightning to tickle his nose. Gladio flew upright, and Prompto darted off, chuckling. 

"It'll be all over by tomorrow, in any case.” Ignis held the suit up to the light of the sun, frowned, and pulled a spool of gold thread from the empty air. “It will take us some time to get to the capital, even on the fey paths.”

“And that’ll be it,” Prompto said. “He’ll be Prince Noctis, and we won’t. We’ll be.” He looked around the yard, at the cottage, the patio, the small creek that ran through their safe little clearing. Birds sang in the eaves of the house for a moment, undisturbed by the voices of Noct’s godfathers.

Ignis set down the thread. “We all know he has to leave.”

The flowers in Gladio’s hair shrank, retreating into buds that ducked in his thick mane of hair. “I remember when he used to try and fish in the creek with a piece of bread on a string.”

“Or when he gave Specs’ glasses to that chocobo,” Prompto said.

“And he climbed into bed when there was a thunderstorm, and you turned into one to show him that it wasn’t frightening,” Ignis said, with a wry grin. “You scorched the floor.”

“Made him wet the bed, too,” Gladio said. 

“Fine. So maybe bringing the thunderstorm _inside_ was a bad idea.”

The birds on the roof fluttered, sunning themselves in a patch of light through the trees. 

“You don’t think King Regis will let us visit?” Prompto asked. 

Ignis shifted in his seat, but anything he would have said was cut off by Noct swinging the front door open. Ignis made a complex motion with his hand, casting a glamor over the suit, and Prompto leaned down to fluff up Gladio’s hair, coaxing the flowers to bloom again. 

“Hey, guys,” Noct called. He had his fishing rod and tackle under one arm, and he was wearing a dirty shirt and patched pants, perfect for a day on the lake. “Anyone up for trout tonight?”

“Uh, sure,” Prompto said. 

“Be back before dark,” Gladio blurted. Instead of scowling, which had become the norm over the past few months, Noct just made a smart little salute and walked off, whistling. 

“Do you think we did okay?” Prompto asked, in a small, soft voice. He was starting to lose his form, blurring at the edges into a cloud of lightning and steam. Ignis looked back at Noct, who was bouncing on his heels as he walked, and raised a shoulder. 

“I like to think so.”

“It’s just…” Prompto faded further still. “We’re only so suspicious of him right now because he’s _happy._ ”

Ignis paled. Gladio’s flowers drooped, spilling wilted petals over his shoulders.

“He’s… he’s never been _un_ happy with us,” Ignis stammered.

“But he’s lonely.” Prompto was little more than a cloud, now, hovering over the flowerbed. “He’s always been lonely.”

The faeries fell silent. Above them, the birds on the roof took flight, darting around each other as they streaked through the trees, the blue of their feathers shining in the sun. As they ducked under the canopy of the woods, they twisted together, wings clashing, bones cracking, beaks digging into soft flesh in a flurry of feathers and claws and blackened blood. Then their shape began to shift, a long neck extending impossibly far, wings expanding, greyish white skin emerging from below a ruff of feathers. A slight nose appeared, then black eyes, a mouth of jagged teeth. They flew swift through the thick of the forest, until the leaves on the trees began to shrivel and the branches began to curl in on themselves, gnarled and dead and rotting. They raced through villages full of gaunt, hollow-eyed spectres, over forgotten barrows and bogs and the dark corners where unlucky travelers disappeared, up and up and farther and farther, until they came to the high castle where their master lived. 

The king of the Unseelie Court sat in a fairytale castle, all golden spires and intricate glass windows. During sunrise, the gilt roof shone blood red, and the glass and crystal inlays gleamed like hundreds of eyes along the walls. It was the kind of castle a conqueror would assume could be taken in an afternoon, a sugar-spun daydream of a fortress. The king had designed it that way deliberately, and greeted any ill-informed hero into the great hall with open doors and a welcoming smile.

Later, of course, he would toss what was left of the hero to the hags, and order someone to clean the blood off his floor. 

He was sitting on his throne, one leg hooked over the armrest, the other dangling on the floor, when the bird swooped in through an upper window. The bird fell to an awkward landing just before the steps leading up to the throne, and lifted their grotesque head to the king in supplication. 

"King Ardyn,” they rasped. “I come bearing news of the prince.”

 

\---

 

Luna arrived at the inn in Lestallum to find the entire city gathered in the plaza, waiting for her. Banners hung limp in the heat that radiated from the power plant, streamers wound around lampposts and over the new, dangerous power lines, and there were so many sylleblossoms that she heard Ravus sigh in polite annoyance. 

Luna firmly put on her best public smile and climbed down from her chocobo. Umbra and Pryna trotted a few feet behind her as she raised her hands to the crowd. 

“Lestallum,” she said, in a voice that pitched over the packed plaza. “Very well met! Lestallum is a beacon of scientific progress in a world that sorely needs it, and to be blessed with the sight of it is truly humbling.”

There was a snap to her right, and a slight murmur of voices as a woman in a jumpsuit went running off down an alley, slipping on what looked like rubber gloves. Luna tried to pretend she hadn’t seen her go, and graciously accepted a bouquet of flowers from one of the children standing at the front of the crowd. 

It was another hour before she was free to retire, and even then, there was the rest of her entourage to greet. She spoke with every servant, every diplomat, clerk, and soldier, and by the time she finally made it to her rooms, she was ready to collapse where she stood. 

Gentiana was waiting for her, sitting in a small chair by the window. Her eyes were closed as always, but she didn’t grope for the furniture as she walked--She must have been waiting in Lestallum for a few days, at least. Luna came to her and took her hands, and Gentiana kissed her cheek. 

“I listened to your speech from the window,” she said. “You will make an excellent queen.”

“Oh, Gen,” Luna said. Gentiana’s brows rose, but Luna only turned away, heading for the bed in the corner. “Let’s not speak of it today.”

“But you must, Lunafreya,” Gentiana said. “The prince’s birthday--”

“Is in a month,” Luna said. 

“It’s tomorrow,” Gentiana said. “You’ll be wed at sunset.”

Luna sat on the bed with a thump. No, it couldn’t be so soon. But then… but she’d stopped in Cleigne, hadn’t she, to help with the relief efforts from an unseasonable storm? And then there was that business with the missing child a few miles away, and the caravan of traders who needed assistance through the thicket, and… and it had all gotten away from her, somewhere. Luna raised a trembling hand to her cheek.

“Gentiana,” she whispered. “What if Prince Noctis and I are a poor match?”

“You will both be exemplary rulers, Lunafreya,” Gentiana said. Luna shook her head, trying to pry loose the sore, sinking weight in her chest. 

“No,” she said. “No, what I mean to say is, what if Prince Noctis doesn’t love me? What if he loves someone else?”

Gentiana smiled. “No one could not love you.”

“But what if I don’t love him?” Luna knew she was raising her voice, knew she sounded shrill and frantic, but she couldn’t stop it. She felt like she was slipping off the edge of a ravine, scrabbling for the ledge as it slipped from her fingers.

There was a short silence. Gentiana stood, and made her slow, somber way to Luna, where she bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“I know you will do what is right,” she breathed. Luna raised a hand to push a tear out of the corner of her eye.

“I think I need to lie down, Gen,” she said. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Luna didn’t wait for Gentiana to leave. She just pulled off her boots and climbed into bed, letting the exhaustion of the afternoon and the dread of the day to come wash over her in an overpowering rush. She didn’t turn when Gentiana lay a hand on the coverlet, nor when she untied the bedcurtains and let them fall. 

If she had, she would have noticed that Gentiana, for the first time in Luna’s memory, was watching her. She would have seen the whiteness of her eyes, the strange, coy smile on her lips, the chill that hung in the air as she departed. Instead, Luna only sank into a deep, fitful sleep, where she was tossed headfirst into a grey, formless dreamspace that pressed upon her on all sides. 

Carbuncle was already there, back arched, paws pressed primly together. It squeaked, and words appeared in the grey fog around them. 

_Hello, girl!_ it said. _I bring you a message from my boy._


	7. Chapter 7

The door to Lunafreya's rooms at the Leville slammed open, rattling one of the picture frames along the wall. She emerged in her second best riding cloak and the rumpled clothes she'd worn that afternoon, with a blue and white scarf dangling from her neck like an afterthought. A guard posted at the door stood to attention, but Luna only flapped a hand.

_In her dream, only a moment before, the hazy, distant image of Briar had risen from the fog like a vision through a clear pool._

_"Luna," he'd said. "I'm going to tell them."_

Luna kept a hand on her sword as she strode down the hall, ignoring the urgent whispers from her guard. Her brother opened his door a few feet away, and Luna picked up the pace.

"Where's the fire?" he asked. His voice was thick with sleep, and he missed Luna's arm by an inch as she passed.

"I need to find someone," she said. "I won't be long."

_"It isn't right," Briar had said, his face twisting, brows creased. "My godfathers and I... We don't keep secrets. But I think they'd be happy for me. All they really need to do is meet you, and I know... they'll love you."_

"Wait." Ravus thundered down the steps after her, stumbling in his half-awake state. "Someone? What someone?"

_If you take the fey paths, you can get here soon enough. Please. I'll wait for you. I just don't think I can do this alone."_

"Just... someone," Luna said. She made for the stables, bypassing a crowd of curious onlookers in the lobby. 

"Luna! What on earth has gotten into you?" Ravus reached for her and ended up with a fistful of scarf, which slipped off Luna's shoulders. "You're getting married tomorrow."

"No," Luna said. She swung herself into Wretch's saddle and smiled down at him. "No, Ravus. I'm not."

Before Ravus could recover from this, Luna tapped Wretch's side with her toe, sending him off at a gallop down the dark streets of Lestallum.

 

\---

 

"Hey, guys." Noct hovered at the bottom of the stairs, watching his godfathers move about the cottage. They were restless that evening, never lingering in one spot for long, emptying out the cupboards, casting quick, furtive spells to clean out dark crannies they usually tried to ignore. Prompto was more stormcloud than man, and had to spend a solid hour outside before he could reform into a shape more fitting for the cottage. 

"Briar," Prompto said. When he spoke, little strands of lightning dragged at his teeth. Gladio clapped Prompto on the shoulder and stepped forward.

"Hey, kid," he said. "It'll be your birthday in a few hours."

Noct scrubbed down his hair and glanced at the door. The small window at the top revealed nothing but darkness, a black curtain drawn over the forest. "Let me guess. Surprise party?" Prompto opened his mouth in indignation. Ignis made a strangled sort of cry from the kitchen, and Noct smiled. "Come on, you throw one every year. It isn't really a surprise anymore."

"Yeah, but..." Gladio waved at Prompto, who floated over, his toes barely brushing the ground. "This one's special."

Noct let Gladio lead him to the couch. They sat down, Prompto perching on the top of the couch, Gladio causing the worn cushions to sink and creak, making Noct tilt slightly towards his side.

"You know," Gladio said. "According to Lucian custom, you're gonna be a man today."

"Sure," Noct said. He looked back to the door. Had Luna lost her way?Maybe she was just running late. She wouldn't leave him to do this alone, even if he did spring it on her last minute. "Which is why I wanted to--"

"Do you know why we gave you a second name?" Prompto asked. It came out in a rush, like he'd been holding his breath. 

"Because... I liked roses when I was a kid?" Noct shifted in his seat. "Look, if this is you guys trying to do a human thing, it's okay. I don't care."

"This is bigger than that," Gladio said. "We have news."

Noct risked another look at the door. "So do I."

"You do?" Ignis appeared from around the kitchen doorway, holding a black box in both arms. "You haven't... You didn't... Have you _heard_ anything?"

"I don't know what you guys are planning, don't worry," Noct said. "But, uh. I want to wait until she gets here to tell you."

"She?" Prompto whispered.

"Who is _she?_ " Ignis asked. His fingers tightened on the box.

Oh, hell. "She's a girl," Noct said, throwing his plans to the wind. "A human girl. I met her a few days ago, and she's... Guys, she's the most amazing person I've ever... She has, like, we talked for hours and she's just. I..." He wished Luna were there. All he'd have to do would be to point to her, and they'd know. They'd be able to figure out all the jumbled, disjointed thoughts vying for attention in Noct's mind and see through them to the clever, powerful, brilliant woman of Noct's dreams. Except she was better than Noct's dreams, because the women he imagined there were always wispy, faded reflections of people, whereas Luna was real and human and so much more than Noct's imagination could ever conjure.

"Oh, no," Prompto whispered.

"It's... good that you made a friend," Ignis said, haltingly. 

"She's more than that," Noct said, leaning forward on his knees. "I always... You know I always kind of wanted something like what you guys have. Well, I think I--"

"No," Gladio said.

"I think I _found_ it?" Noct heard his own voice fade off at the hard, pained look in Gladio's face. "Gladdy? You... You're the one who always talked about love like it's--"

"I know how I talk," Gladio said. "I wish I didn't."

Noct looked to the others, shrinking at the dismay in their expressions. "I know I should've told you before..."

"Oh, Briar," Ignis said, and he seemed to crumple, his face falling into a mask of misery. "It isn't that. It's..."

"You're already engaged," Prompto said.

"To a princess," Gladio added.

Noct hurriedly tried to run through the list of semi-royal faeries in the Seelie Court. "Periwinkle?" he asked. "Not Lady Mag, she's ancient, and she hates humans."

"To a human princess," Ignis said. Noct barked out a horrible, awkward laugh.

"Why would I--"

"Because you aren't just Briar," Prompto said. "It's what we're trying to tell you. You're Noct. Noctis Lucis Caelum."

"Son of Regis Caelum," Ignis said, lifting the cover off the box. A black and gold suit lay there, glittering with the symbol of a family crest. "King of Lucis."

 

\---

 

Luna guided her chocobo through the dark woods out of Lestallum, following the small, smudged blue light that was Carbuncle's waking form. The trees around her seemed to move faster than she ran, flying past in a whirl of shadow and starlight, and her mind spun with it, unable to focus.

She was a fool. She knew she'd have to return to Lucis at some point; She couldn't just leave Lucis and Tenebrae to the rule of one sheltered prince. But what she'd said to Ravus kept coming back to her, and with each recollection, her imagined self rose higher and spoke bolder until she was practically rallying half the town in her favor. 

Why _shouldn't_ she have a say in who she married? Briar had the right of it, even if he was a bit naive in thinking he could just announce himself to a group of faeries without repercussions. Luna had spent the last few years trying to deny the truth: She _didn't_ want to marry Prince Noctis. She wanted to marry someone she liked, someone she knew, someone she could hold a conversation with, dance with, who could make her laugh...

"Oh," she said, her voice whipped away from her by the wind. "Oh..."

She had to abandon Wretch a few minutes later. The poor thing was exhausted, and she'd never forgive herself if she drove him past his limit. She turned him loose and ran after Carbuncle on foot, tilting her sword to avoid getting it caught in the brambles of the underbrush.

Finally, when Luna thought she couldn't take another step without collapsing, she found herself alone at the edge of a clearing. A cottage sat in the center, bathed in starlight, surrounded by a wild garden that grew in great swaths over the grass. A single light burned in the first floor window.

Briar said he'd wait for her, after all.

Luna took a moment to catch her breath. Her footsteps were soft over the thick grass, and the scent of the garden was calming and sweet, mingling with the hint of bread coming through a half open window. Luna braced herself before the door and knocked.

"Come in." The voice was low, almost musical. One of the godfathers, perhaps? Luna twisted the handle and slowly eased the door open.

There was a candle on an empty table in the center of the room. Luna caught the glimpse of an arm, a ruffled sleeve, and a long, curving grin that stretched too wide and too sharp, before a piece of netting was tossed over her and she was dragged into the cottage.

The door slammed shut.

Luna ripped at the net, but she barely had it off before dozens of hands were gripping her arms, her legs, unhooking the hanger that held her sword. She staggered back, managing to dislodge a few of her attackers against the wall, but when she reached for her sword, it was already gone.

"Iron!" something screeched, in a high, terrible voice. "It bears iron!"

"Oh dear," said the man at the table.

The creatures fell on Luna in a frenzy, slashing and biting and scrabbling at her in a slathering, gibbering horde. For each one Luna threw off, another appeared, bringing with them rope and chain and loops of silver, until Luna was left straining against bonds that wrapped around her torso and pinned her arms. She tried to push against them, but she could only thrash uselessly.

Finally, the man at the table stood up.

"An admirable attempt," he said. He was a shadow against the starlight through the windows, taller by far than the creatures that held Luna. When he turned to her, his teeth gleamed, and Luna stared up into the face of her young nightmares. Ardyn, the king of the Unseelie Court.

Who was standing in Briar's house.

She surged against her bonds, and the king laughed, his jaw unhinging slightly as black blood dripped sluggishly down the corner of his mouth. It slid along his jaw and dripped to the floor between them, and he lowered his shoulders to meet her eye-to-eye.

"What a delight," he said. "I come here looking for a prince, and I find myself a princ _ess!_ My, but it has been some time, has it not? How much taller you are." He trailed a finger under Luna's chin. "And braver. And oh, so much more foolish."

"What prince? What have you done to Briar?" Luna managed to gasp. The king's grin widened further still, and she could hear the tearing of skin as new teeth appeared along his cheek. 

"Done? Why, I've not touched a hair on his head. And I shan't," he added, tucking a lock of hair behind Luna's ear. "Not now, when I have _you._ " He straightened and snapped his fingers. "Come along," he said. "Let's show our brave hero the Night Court's hospitality."


	8. Chapter 8

The moon over the wastes of King Ardyn's country was red, stained with the thick miasma that rose from the marshes and mixed with the ash and soot of cook fires. Luna tried to use it to gauge her direction as they took the strange, deceptively swift fey paths into the heart of Ardyn's realm, but it seemed to swing in the sky, tilting and warping with every step. It didn't help that the creatures of the Unseelie Court milled around her, mincing and bowing and flashing sharp teeth as she was dragged over the moors. 

"Oh, brave queen!" one of them cried. A laurel crown was placed over her brow, dripping with twisted black roots and heavy leaves, and Luna shook her head as she felt an insect trying to burrow through her hair. The faeries holding her shrieked with laughter, and Ardyn glanced back at her with the bemused smile of an old friend. 

"Not long yet, my dear," he said. 

Their company grew, more faeries appearing from the bogs as they passed, some shaking themselves out of trees, some appearing with a crash of feathers and scales. For an instant, Luna thought she saw a familiar, slender nymph among the throng, staring at her with horror in their wide, black eyes, but then a banshee whirled through them, and they disappeared in a puff of leaves and bright green blossom.

The Unseelie King's castle appeared over the horizon, gleaming with torchlight, and Ardyn stopped to swing an arm wide.

"Behold," he said. "Our hero's new home." 

Luna couldn't help but jerk back against the ropes at that, but her captors giggled and screeched as they dragged her across the freshly upturned earth of the road. The gates of the castle rose, jagged as the maw of a dragon, and Ardyn swept through them with a steady, self-assured gait that made Luna long for the safe weight of a sword in her hand.

"Good people of the Night Court," Ardyn cried, his voice echoing off the high walls. "I bring to you the savior of Lucis! Queen Lunafreya!"

Howling laughter greeted her as Luna was pulled into the hall after him, her boots tracking mud across the polished floors, dirt in her hair and lines of blood standing out where her bonds bit too deep in her wrists. Another crown was produced, a heavy black circlet made of twisted glass, lumpy and misshapen as sand after a lightning strike, and Luna was held still as it was placed over her head. A cloak was tied about her shoulders, and the creatures she passed gave her low, mocking bows, hunger bright in their eyes.

Ardyn threw himself onto a throne overlooking the hall, sitting like a small child with his legs akimbo, his back leaning against an armrest. "Ah," he sighed. "It _does_ feel nice, does it not, to have one's luck finally turn? Here stands the hero of our little story. So brave. So noble. Even now trying to mask her terror. It almost..." He stopped, lifting his head, and the court fell into a hushed silence. Hundreds of eyes turned to him as he slowly rose to a proper seat. 

"Yes," he said. "I believe I know just what to do with you." He stood. "Attend!"

"The king will speak!" shrilled a faerie in the wings. "Our wise king!"

"Our beautiful king!" another cried.

"Our gracious king!" called a third.

"Here stands the true love of the prince of Lucis," Ardyn cried. Luna thought to protest, but he carried on, his voice echoing as he stood from the throne. "The prince who even now walks onward into a sleep deep as death."

The laughter that greeted his words was so high and exultant that Luna shuddered, thinking of that distant, unknown prince waiting for her in the Lucian capital.

"But why _shouldn't_ we allow these two lovelorn fools a happy ending?" Ardyn asked. "No." He smiled down at Luna, his too-wide mouth stretching at the corners. "Your Noctis--your Briar Rose--will have the blessing of true love's kiss."

Luna froze. 

"In one hundred years," Ardyn said, as Luna's mind rolled with the memory of the Seelie Queen's cry of _my prince!_ Of Briar's hesitance when he gave her his name. Of the godfathers he claimed had never stolen him. "When the people of Lucis have fallen into our welcome hold, we shall send forth our brave hero to claim her dear prince at last. For what does the infirmities of age matter when faced with the power of true love? What does it matter if they have but a year together, or twenty, or a few breaths, when even death must bend to the truth of their bond?"

Luna shook herself out of her fog long enough to look Ardyn in the eyes. She remembered the infant wailing in Queen Aulea's arms, the screams of the guards, the mist that rolled across the throne room floor.

This was why the Seelie queen warned her about Briar. He wasn't merely a target of the king's ire: He was the lost prince, Prince Noctis, cursed in her own presence only twenty years ago. Luna steeled herself, and swallowed around a painfully dry throat.

"Speechless?" Ardyn circled her, trailing a hand along her shoulders. "I'll help you, my dear. The words you're looking for are _thank you, your majesty._ "

Luna forced herself not to look at the bloody ruin of his mouth. "I see no king here," she said. 

Ardyn's smile unhinged itself into a horrible laugh. "Oh, darling," he wheezed. "You are too good for that prince of yours. I have half a mind to keep you for myself."

This time, Luna couldn't suppress a shudder. Ardyn's eyes flashed at the sight of it, and he raised a hand. One of the ropes looped around Luna's neck was laid in his palm, and he curled his fingers around it.

"Come, oh queen," he said. "The first night of your long vigil is at hand."

 

\---

 

"Prince Noctis?"

Noct sat alone in a room as large as the first floor of his cottage, surrounded by black drapes and oil paintings in ornate gold frames. His hair was combed and gelled, his new suit fit perfectly over his slender frame, and his face was still and carefully empty of tears.

His godfathers' voices hissed outside the door. 

"Briar?"

"That isn't my name," Noct whispered. His biological parents hadn't even met him at the door when he arrived: They were waiting for the night to be over, for Noct to be free of whatever unknown danger his godfathers kept skirting around. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that they hadn't even risked sending a letter. Not once. Not in twenty years.

The future yawned before Noct like an endless pit, an isolation deeper and darker than anything he'd felt before.

He thought of Luna, probably already waiting at the cottage door for him. Thought of the princess whose name his godfathers couldn't even remember, who Noct was supposed to marry.

His hands curled into fists in his lap.

"Briar?"

He jumped. This voice was closer, and achingly familiar, warm and smiling. Noct rose, searching the empty room.

"Luna?" He whispered.

"Briar." Luna's voice sounded like she was a moment away from laughter. He turned to the wall, where a low doorway had appeared behind a curtain.

Something was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be there. Luna wasn't supposed to be there. There were rules about voices with no tongues to hold them, rules about doors and magic and will. But it was hard to remember, suddenly, with Luna's voice in his mind and the stairs leading down, down, urging him on.

Noct ran his hand along the wall of the stairwell. When had he gone through the door? There were other voices behind him, muffled and faint, and Noct strained to listen.

"Briar, come."

Luna. Yes. Yes, he needed to go to Luna. Noct removed his hand from the wall and continued his descent.

The stairwell opened up to a small storage room, where boxes covered in white sheets lay propped against the walls. In the center of the room was a small sphere of red-gold flame, which sparked and sizzled as it slowly dragged itself down. Piece by piece, a strange, wheeled contraption emerged, topped with a fat needle. Noctis stepped forward.

"Briar, no!"

"Gladio?" he whispered, jerking around. The tunnel behind him was empty. 

"Please," Luna's voice was soft, gentle. Noct turned back to the needle, which pulsed with light. "Please, Briar. All you need to do is touch it. Just once."

Noct extended his hand.

The tip of the needle was cool to the touch, and Noct didn't feel the prick of metal on his finger until the blood was already welling to the skin, dark and full. Noct instinctively licked the drop away, and with the taste of copper on his tongue, he finally, with a horrifying flash of clarity, realized where he was.

Noctis felt his body crumple to the floor as he sank, swift and terrible, into the cold and unwelcoming dark.


	9. Chapter 9

Gladiolus lifted the body of his godson in his arms.

“I was a field, before,” he said. His voice was rough, the words pushing out in short jerks. “Just a field, and a thought. Didn’t care much about anything, really. Sunlight.” He jostled Noct’s head against his arm. “Earth. Birds at dawn.”

Prompto drifted over, running a hand that crawled with small, popping sparks of light over Noct’s leg. Noct twitched, but it was an involuntary spasm, nothing more. Ignis adjusted the collar of Noct’s new suit and closed his eyes.

“Never should’ve left,” Gladio whispered.

They stared down at Noct’s sleeping face, the lines of pain that had hardened his mouth smoothed out into the young man who was Briar.

Then they turned as one to the impossible stairs leading back to Briar’s room. They ascended, carrying their heart between them, lily blossoms falling from Gladio’s hair to curl forgotten on the unforgiving stone.

The king and queen called for them a few minutes later. Ignis, for once, could no longer compose himself, stumbling on uncertain feet as he tried to make for the door. So it was Prompto who came, more a suggestion of a man than anything, shot through with bolts of lightning. He bowed before the king and queen of Lucis and searched their faces, trying to see any of Briar in their smiles. But no. Briar smiled with the side of his lips tilted a little, just like Gladio. He laughed like Prompto, doubled-over and wheezing. And when he was up to something, when he was too happy to hide it, his eyes flashed the way Ignis’ did, crinkling up at the corners. 

No, there was no Briar in the earnest, expectant humans who sat before him. 

“Princess Lunafreya has been delayed,” King Regis said, and Prompto nodded vaguely. Where had he heard that name before? Sometime recently, maybe, tied up in the horror of finding his godson on the cold stone before the spindle. “The wedding will have to wait. But we thought… my wife and I… we thought we might meet our son.”

Prompto blinked. “Lunafreya,” he said. 

_”Her name’s Luna,” Briar had said, as he was pushed out the door of their cottage. He’d gripped the frame of the door tight, and Gladio had to peel his fingers away. “She’ll be waiting for me. We can’t just… we can’t go now. Please.”_

King Regis and Queen Aulea exchanged nervous looks. “My Lord Prompto.”

Prompto raised a hand. “Wait. Wait, does the princess.” He swallowed, trying to remember what Briar had told them on that miserable journey down the fey paths. “Does she have blonde hair, and stocky shoulders? Muscles in her arms? Wears military uniforms, like a soldier?”

Queen Aulea sighed. “She does wear a gown now and then,” she said. “Usually in white. But yes, she does favor a… practical style.”

Prompto was mostly a cloud by then, his mortal form breaking apart into nothing more than a silhouette made of lightning and mist. “She might be the one,” he said. “I mean, Briar _seemed_ to be in love. Humans fall in love fast, right?” he asked the royal couple before him. “Because you die so quickly. You have to. It’s for survival.”

“I…” Queen Aulea shifted on her throne. “I don’t believe I follow.”

“Right,” Prompto said. “So all we have to do is bring this Luna _here,_ and bam! Curse broken! I mean, I’m pretty sure. Unless she _isn’t_ his true love, and his true love is actually some other person he hasn’t met yet, which means we’ll need to see a soothsayer—“

“Lord Prompto,” Regis said, in a sharp voice that pulled Prompto from his frantic machinations. “Has something happened to my son?”

Prompto looked up into the shadowed, stone-faced mask of the king, and opened his mouth.

 

“The fuck did you do?” Gladio shouted. His voice echoed off the walls of the throne room, bouncing back like a twittering chorus across the vaulted ceiling. Prompto cringed, raising what remained of his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

Before them, the king and queen of Lucis lay over the arms of their thrones, sleeping softly. The guards along the walls were slumped against pillars and decorative urns, and by the door, Queen Sylva Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae was drooling into the carpet. Ignis carefully rolled her to her side, and she mumbled in her sleep.

“I panicked,” Prompto said. “First it was the king, because he was, he was asking questions, but then the queen started shouting and the guards all turned to look, and the other queen What’s-Her-Name came in, and then I heard voices in the hall and I—“

“And you enchanted an entire _castle?_ ” Ignis asked. It was a shock that ice didn’t drip from his tongue. 

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh, gods,” Gladio whispered. “Alright, we can come back from this.”

“But what matters,” Prompto said, the light of his eyes shining from a smudged stormcloud of a face, “is that Luna is Briar’s true love, so all we have to do is grab her, shove her at him, make them kiss, and it’s over.”

Ignis rose from Queen Sylva’s side. “If she _is_ his true love,” he said. “Love is a tricky thing, Prompto. Particularly in humans. They’re rather fickle.”

“What, like we aren’t?” Prompto snorted. “We just need to find the princess.”

“Sure would be nice,” Gladio said, with deliberate slowness, “if the princess’ mother were awake to tell us where she is.”

Prompto’s face darkened. It was all too clear that his magic was tapped out, barely enough left to keep up a physical form. “We’ll… we’ll find a way,” he said. 

Behind Ignis, the gilt frame bearing a painting of the royal family started to rattle. Ignis stepped back, drawing the lines of a spell in his right hand, as Gladio walked right through Prompto to ascend the steps. Prompto sputtered and hissed, and failed to see the lumps that appeared in the frame, one after another, like gooseflesh on bare skin. 

A green shoot broke through the gold paint of the frame, revealing dry wood beneath. The shoot grew, forming into a vine that twisted and curled and grew thicker as the frame shook and shuddered, finally falling to the carpet in an unruly tangle. The frame shattered, and the canvas hit the floor with a crash. 

The vine rose in the shape of a thin, anxious nympth, their hands splintered and cracked like the twigs of a dying tree. 

“My lord,” they said, turning to Ignis. Ignis’ eyes narrowed as they stood before him, panting, wringing their dry hands. 

“I know you,” he said. “You’re—“

“Meadowsweet, my lord,” they said. “I… I’ve been going from tree to tree, I… The wood here is so _old._ It’s terrible, how can you… how can anyone live like this?” They looked around the stone hall and shuddered. “But I came because I’ve been following that _girl_ Briar won’t stop talking about.”

Ignis looked at Gladio. “A girl?”

“I _hate_ her.” A piece of their finger snapped off, and Meadowsweet moaned. “Briar was _my_ friend before, but now all he does is lie in the grass and dream about girls and dancing and that stupid mortal with her corn-colored hair. But he likes her, and I’m his friend, and I thought…” They saw Ignis’ face shift, brows lowering, and quickly added, “I followed her to your cottage. The king was there. He was waiting for Briar.”

For a moment, the only sound in the throne room was that of two dozen mortals dreaming, breathing slow in the cool evening air. 

“He took her,” Meadowsweet said. “I tried to possess the ropes they used to bind her, but they were made of straw and metal, and I can’t go there. So I followed as far as I could. She’s being taken to the Night Court, my lord. Right to the heart of it.”

Ignis’ hand went to his cheek. The lilies in Gladio’s hair shriveled into buds, nestling in their leaves and along the muscles of his back. Prompto’s form started to tighten, drawing into a human shape once more. 

“We need to find Luna,” Prompto said. 

“That means going into the Night Court.” Gladio turned to Ignis. “You’ll be weaker there. We all will.”

“It isn’t as though we have a choice,” Ignis said. He bowed to the nymph, who raised trembling hands to their face and stepped back. “Thank you for informing us. Will you watch over him while we’re gone?”

“Of course,” Meadowsweet said. They waited in silence as the three godfathers turned as one, striding through the throne room with the sure gait of the doomed. Prompto passed through the doors without bothering to open them, but Ignis and Gladio pushed them wide, and Meadowsweet saw the dark sky, the wide, open plaza, the treeless city spread before them. 

Then they raced up the stairs, calling to every speck of wood and leaf in the castle, until they found a bedframe in a second-story bedroom. They threw themselves into the wood of the bedposts, and emerged slowly, causing the posts to weaken and the canopy to go slithering off the side and onto the floor. 

Meadowsweet looked down at the sleeping form of Briar, their dear, hopeless friend, and laid a brittle hand on his cheek. 

“Don’t worry,” they whispered, stroking the hair that fell in his eyes. “I’ll keep you safe.”


	10. Chapter 10

The dungeons of the Night Court were made of silver shaped into delicate lattice-work, overlaid with spells that glimmered like a grate at the bottom of a pool. Luna's cell was lined with bookcases just as finely decorated as the rest of the dungeon, but when she rose to inspect them, she found that the books were thick with rot, and silverfish and roaches swarmed from the pages when her shadow passed over them. She drew back, and the chains that held her to the far wall clinked with the sweetness of a high bell.

"I'm sure it will be to your liking," King Ardyn had said, as Luna was marched inside, held down by firm hands that dug grooves into her skin. He'd tapped the framework of the cell, which hummed gently. "A bedroom fit for a queen."

There _was_ a bed, immaculately made and draped in silk, but after her brush with the books, Luna rather preferred the floor.

Sleep was impossible. The light was too strong, the terror too close, and Luna jerked at every clang and groan and rattle of the castle settling down for the night. Every now and then, she heard shrieks, pained howls, the hissing gurgle of some poor dying creature, and she carefully tested her bonds, wondering how far she could go if she managed to wrench them off the wall.

Then there was Briar. No, Noctis. _Prince_ Noctis, the same wailing child from her nightmares, cursed to a sleep like death. Her betrothed had always taken on a different shape in Luna's mind, a man who would view her with the distant, unfeeling politeness of a sheltered monarch. But Briar laughed when he saw her, babbled about faerie politics and the social life of trees, bowed like an ancient courtier and looked at her like she was something precious, something magnificent and thrilling. 

She wouldn't mind being betrothed to Briar. 

Behind her, a book thumped to the floor. Luna turned, scooting away as the book dropped open, but instead of a swarm of insects, there was only a blank, wrinkled page. Two soft paws landed on the book with a crunch of dry paper. 

Carbuncle looked up at her, large eyes wide and unblinking, and flicked a bushy tail. 

"Am I dreaming?" Luna asked, and Carbuncle's head tilted.

A squeak, and words began to form on the open book. 

_Not yet._

Then Carbuncle's horn flashed, and Luna tipped forward, down, down, impossibly far, into a floor that opened like smoke parting in the mountains.

She fell to her feet in the Inn at Lestallum. The building was in chaos, guards and servants darting around each other in disorganized panic, while Ravus paced the hall, jaw clenched tight. Luna reached out to him as he passed, but he walked right through her, unheeding. 

Carbuncle squeaked. Luna spotted the fox at the door to her room, and she started forward. The chains at her wrists jingled, and she grimaced, trying to force the sound out of her thoughts as she rounded the open door.

Gentiana sat in a wide blue chair, hands in her lap, eyes open.

"Oh, dear," she said, in a voice very unlike her own. "You _are_ in trouble."

"Gen?" Luna inched closer. Gentiana rarely ever opened her eyes; It was part of her punishment for leaving the Day Court, or so Luna was told. And her eyes did look strange. Familiar, almost, in an odd, inhuman way--

"No," Luna whispered.

"You're clever," said the voice of the Seelie Queen. "Good. I'd hate to put a fool on the throne." She looked down at her hands and sighed. "My dear Ginnie does take care of herself. Do you do her nails?"

"Sometimes," Luna said. "Wait. No, what are you doing? How can you--"

"I borrow all my former lovers this way," the Queen said. "Oh, don't look so scandalized. I need spies, don't I? And I make sure they're beautiful and trusted and talented... All I ask of them is to borrow their eyes, now and then. Of course, Gentiana's been denying me for years."

A chill ran down Luna's spine. "So when the king of the Unseelie Court killed your lovers..."

"He killed them for this." Gentiana's hand raised to her eye. "I suppose Ginnie was protecting herself as well. But we don't have time for this."

"It's monstrous," Luna said. Her hands shook at her sides. "When this is done, I will--"

"No, let's not," the Queen said. "What matters right now is our Briar. He's alone, you know. My subjects are coming for you--Or I believe they are--but if you wish to see him brought to the land of the living, it will take more than a kiss."

She stood, and a silver sword formed in her hands, long and sharp and far too fragile to be of any use. "This is a dream-thing," she said, holding it to the light, "and as such, it is as strong as your will demands." She handed Luna the sword, and it was surprisingly heavy on her palm. "The King of the Night Court will not release your prince into your hands so easily, my dear."

"You planned this," Luna said. "You _wanted_ this to happen, so I can kill your enemy for you."

"Not at all," the Queen said. "I love our prince. He's such a pretty little thing. But I'm not one to ignore an opportunity when I find it. When you are queen, you will understand."

Luna curled her hand around the hilt of the sword, and prayed that she wouldn't.

"Now go," the Queen said. "Ginnie is fighting me, poor dear, and I _do_ hate to see her upset. Go on, now. Find your prince, and see him safe. Go with my blessing, if that counts for anything."

Carbuncle bounced down from the windowsill and squeaked. Words formed on the glass, like a finger was running over the fogged surface.

_Sorry, girl._

"It's alright," Luna said, even if it wasn't, really. "Just take me back."

Carbuncle leapt, and Luna woke with a start in the middle of her cell, her bonds crackling apart like paper around her wrists, and a long, deadly sword propped on her knees.

She stood. The door to the cell was flimsy, made for decoration rather than function, and was nothing against over a decade of weapons-training, hauling wood, mending houses and guarding roads. Luna rubbed her eyes with her palms, using the salt of them to counteract the spells in the bars, and heaved. The door wrenched loose with a grating screech, and Luna jumped aside as it crashed to the ground.

One of the Night Court's guards came barreling down the stairs, and Luna brandished her sword. 

It was a dream thing, the Queen had said. Powered by will. Very well, then; At that moment, standing free with a blade in her hand, Luna had enough will for an army.

"This sword," she said, with all the certainty of a princess, "is sharp enough to cut steel."

The blade whistled as she twisted her wrist, loosening her grip. The guard, a gaunt, pale creature with too many limbs and a beak for a mouth, goggled at her.

"This sword," Luna said, "is blessed with holy water from the spring of the gods, deep in the mountains of Tenebrae."

When she plunged the blade into the creature, the skin around the wound began to hiss and burn.

"This sword was made to kill the king of the Night Court," Luna said, and pushed the creature off with a foot, sending them tumbling onto the stair. "Go and tell him."

The guard squawked in terror and went scrabbling and clawing up the stairs, leaving a trail of sticky black blood behind.

Swiftly, holding her enchanted blade in a steady hand, Luna followed.

The Night Court was in chaos when Luna emerged into the upper levels of the castle. She had to cut her way through three ghouls at the top of the stair, who wailed and quavered as the sword hissed and burned it's way through their half spectral flesh, and their blood still ran from the edge of her blade in fat drops. All Luna had to do was stamp and yell to make the demons assembled in the hall draw back, and they eyed her blade with the wide-eyed, slathering cry of hysteria.

When the door at the far end of the hall burst open, Luna nearly charged before she saw the faeries gathered there.

Time did not work the same way for the fey creatures of the Seelie Court, and the three who stood before her now looked the same as they had in Luna's dreams since the day Ardyn cursed her betrothed. The flowers at the shoulders of the wood-sprite were blue, the storm spirit was more storm than man, and the high faerie wore simpler, muddy clothes stained with blood, but they had the same youthful faces, the same eyes, same build. Luna strode toward them, and the storm spirit fell back as though afraid.

"Princess Lunafreya," the high faerie said, in a strangled sort of voice. "We didn't think--we came because--"

"You're here for Briar's sake?" Luna asked. The wood-sprite nodded. "You're his godfathers, then?"

"I... Yes."

Luna glanced back at the faeries behind her. "We don't have much time," she said. "We should go."

"But we came to rescue _her,_ " the storm spirit said, as the high faerie took Luna's free hand and took off running, long legs loping across the wide entrance hall.

"Yeah, well, plans change," the wood-sprite shouted. "Apparently!"

The denizens of the Night Court found their courage at last as Luna reached the gate, which started to slam with a vengeance, spikes closing down with the deadly speed of a hawk. The wood-sprite shouted a word, and the spikes disappeared, falling about them in a cloud of rose petals. They stumbled out of the pile, but when Luna looked back, the wood-sprite was nowhere to be seen.

"He's fine," the high faerie shouted. "Used too much... energy. Went back... to his garden!"

The storm spirit sputtered at Luna's side as they ran. A screech rose from the castle, a high, terrible wail, and the high faerie looked up and groaned as white lights lifted from the forest around them, wheeling about. They peeled back a thin layer over their surfaces, revealing black pupils that roved the ground below.

"Prompto," the high faerie said. "Prompto, they'll--"

"I know," said the storm spirit. He drifted above them, light crackling over his arms. "I'll see you when I can. I promise."

"You know I--"

"Yeah," the spirit said, and smiled weakly. "Me, too." Then light flooded Luna's vision, and the spirit spread his arms, no longer a storm but lightning, pure and bright and terrible. He arched for the first eye, and there was a crack of thunder.

"We can't linger," the high faerie said, and tugged Luna forward. Another crack rang out as they threw themselves onto a faerie path, racing through the trees until the distant thunder was nothing but a faint rumble, and the loudest sound in the forest was their pounding feet, and their harsh, ragged breath.


	11. Chapter 11

King Ardyn was coming. Meadowsweet saw the first stirrings of magical fire in the skies over the Unseelie kingdom, flickering like heat lightning through Briar’s bedroom window. They peered through the fogged glass as the light took shape, creating the outline of a great beast, horned and wicked and snapping fire in its teeth, and then back to Briar, who lay silent and still on his ruined bed. 

“He won’t take you,” Meadowsweet said, and even though Briar couldn’t hear them, might possibly _never_ hear them, they felt marginally better for it. Then they raced down the steps, their newly-formed body light on the stair, and threw themselves past the bodies of sleeping guards to stand at the front entrance of the castle. 

Before them, the beast that was the Unseelie king tore through the sky, making a line straight through the heart of Lucis. 

“You won’t take him,” Meadowsweet said, into the crash of magic that heralded the king’s coming. They stamped their right foot into the stone, sending thin roots questing into the earth, calling out to every tree and sprout and sapling as far as they could reach. _Come,_ they begged, their spirit voice twining through leaf and twig. _Come for Briar._

Briar. Their friend. Their boy. The child who asked so politely before he climbed their tree for the first time, who laughed at Meadowsweet’s impression of passing humans, who shook chestnuts out for dryads weighed down by their burdens, who chased birds from their berries, who slept in their shade. The young man who bowed to oaks and told stories to willows. The one who made salves of moss and magic and pressed them to scars made by lightning or fire, encouraging new growth, and who set up thin rods to help saplings survive their search for the sun. 

Meadowsweet poured all their love for Briar into their roots, and the trees of Lucis responded. 

They came like the encroaching tide after a storm, leaving hills and plains bare, dragging out chunks of upturned earth in their wake. They wound up the capital city, roots rising and falling through the cobbled streets like undulating snakes, branches rustling and groaning in a horrible chorus. They made a thick, impenetrable wall around the castle, around Meadowsweet, around Briar. Their branches shook off fresh leaves to reveal bristling twigs, roses and vines sharpened their thorns, and when Luna and Ignis arrived, panting, at the gates of the city, they found the castle shrouded in shadow.

Ignis dropped to a knee at Luna’s side. She sank down to support his arm, but Ignis shook his head, laying a hand on the hilt of her sword. 

“I don’t have the strength,” he said. “I’ll need it to… to find the others, when I can. But for now, I can at least do this.” He bowed his head over Luna’s sword, whispering in a tongue she didn’t recognize, his lips moving fast. “Strike true,” he said at last, pulling away. “Strike fast.”

“I will,” Luna said, and rose to her feet. 

Above her, the king of the Unseelie court bore down through the gathering clouds in a halo of fire. His human form was gone, revealing a scaled hide that shone sleek as oil, horns that dripped flame, a gaping maw bristling with jagged teeth. Luna brandished her sword and climbed the broken street that led to the barricade. 

“Come down, then!” Luna shouted. Her heart felt like a drum in her chest, her nerves singing with fear. “Come down and fight!”

The beast lunged. Luna winced at the crack of tree limbs breaking as Ardyn cleaved through them, his massive claws gouging and shredding bark in wide strips. Luna braced herself and whispered to her sword, trying to will her words into truth. 

“I hold a dragon-killer,” she breathed, and as Ardyn’s jaw opened wide to spit flame, she dug in her feet and raked the blade along his neck. Ardyn howled, twisting away, and the force of his wings made Luna fall back, tumbling into the street. 

Heat tightened the skin of her face, and she looked up in mute horror to find the wood was burning. 

Ardyn made another pass, and she fell back, staving him off with a wild swing of her sword. Noct lay somewhere in the castle beyond, unknowing of the danger, unknowing that the only thing standing between himself and death was a young woman, practically a girl, holding a sword made of dreams against a fey king. The sword flickered in her hand, going thin and vaguely unreal, and Luna ducked a spout of fire. 

Ardyn laughed, his voice booming over the hushed streets of the city. Luna recalled her nightmares, the fear of a small child standing on the dais, watching death walk forward to claim her betrothed. She thought of being wrapped in Gentiana’s arms as the guards died, of the broken sound of Queen Aulea’s sobbing, of the pallor of King Regis’ face. 

She thought of Briar, smiling at her in a small clearing by a creek, messy hair falling in his eyes. 

Ardyn hovered in the air, wings sending powerful gusts of wind across the smoldering trees. He reared back his neck for one last burst of fire, and Luna pulled herself to her feet. She clenched her hand on her sword. 

“It’s just a sword,” she whispered. “But it’s enough.”

With all the strength left in her body, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret threw her blade into the heart of Ardyn Izunia, king of the Night Court. The sword lodged in his breast, and he flung his head back with a wordless roar of rage and pain, the very air trembling, the stones of the houses around them crackling and trickling dust. Luna almost dropped to her knees, but staggered upright as the dragon that was the king twisted and warped around her blade, collapsing in on himself until he was nothing more than a scrap of darkness, a dirty cloak fluttering to the scorched earth below.

When she turned to face the castle, the dying trees shifted for her, forming a path to the open gates. Luna staggered through them, breathing in smoke, every muscle screaming in protest as she dragged her feet one after another up the flat stone steps to the entrance hall. She ignored the sleeping guards, her own mother collapsed on the dais with the king and queen of Lucis, the banners and drinks and tapestries made just for her arrival. She walked in a daze, drawn forward by pain and exhaustion, by a weary tug at her heart that turned her down hallways, up a winding stair, into the doorway of a room where a young man lay sleeping. 

She knelt next to Briar, and lifted a filthy, ash-streaked hand to touch his cheek. 

“Time to wake up,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.


	12. Chapter 12

King Regis and Queen Aulea Caelum woke to the sound of a forest on the move. Already, the citizens of Lucis were peering out windows at the fire-marked forest returning to ravaged fields and empty hills, leaving behind a castle surrounded by rubble and rich black earth. Regis and Aulea picked themselves up on their thrones, blinking in the dark made by banked fires and an overcast sky, and stared out at the wreckage of the stairs before the castle gates. Queen Sylva stumbled to her feet a moment later, muttering something about too much wine, and held Aulea’s shoulder for support. 

“I wonder what that was about,” Aulea whispered. 

“An argument,” King Regis said. “Someone was… we were speaking to someone, weren’t we? About Noctis.”

Aulea gasped, clutching Sylva’s hand. “Noctis!” she cried. “It’s past sunset. He must be—why hasn’t he come down? You don’t think he’s…” She rose, unsteady on her feet, and turned to the narrow stair that led to the royal suites. 

A booted foot appeared around the bend, and the monarchs on the dais held their breath. Ash drifted in from the open gates, making the guards cough and blink away tears as they examined the charred earth beyond the castle, but all eyes in the throne room were fixed on the young woman descending the steps, covered in soot and mud and blood, holding the hand of a man with Queen Aulea’s face.

“Hello, Mother,” Princess Lunafreya said. “I apologize for the delay. I wonder... Have you met Briar, yet?”

 

 

The official news, which was distributed to the public with as much half-hearted fanfare as the heralds could muster, was that the wedding was being put off for a few months. The prince and princess needed time to get to know each other. Prince Noctis needed to reacquaint himself with Lucis, with his family, with the sudden burden of the crown that weighed too heavy on a brow unused to rule. And the world, it seemed, needed to adjust to the loss of the Unseelie King, whose death had sent the Night Court into a panic that the Seelie Queen was only too happy to use to her advantage. 

The truth, which wasn’t _too_ far from the one shouted on street corners and nailed up on lampposts, lay in a small cottage a day and a night’s ride from the capital, where the wind blew soft through high grasses and made ripples in the winding creek. It found Luna and Noctis by the far window, where they knelt before a patch of lilies and waited, hands clasped together, for the earth to rise. When it did, blossoms spreading and shifting to reveal the broad-shouldered form of Noct’s second godfather, Noctis threw himself into Gladio’s arms, sending Luna down with him. 

“Easy, Briar!” Gladio cried, in a voice that shivered like the rustle of grass. “You’ll crush the petals!”

Luna rolled to her feet, gingerly stepping out of the flower bed, and smiled up at Ignis, who was leaning against the wall. He had to walk with a cane these days, and he seemed smaller, his feet less sure, but he tipped his head towards Luna with a smile that seemed genuine. Above him sat the suggestion of a man in forked strands of lightning, a gentle mist of a storm spirit who drifted down and fell apart at the slightest breeze. A crackle of a grin flashed across his face, and Luna held out her hand to Noctis, who rose to take it. 

“Are you sure?” Ignis asked. “I doubt that your human families will acknowledge a faerie wedding.”

“You can take your time, now,” Gladio said. His face was a mess of flowers, blossoms making up his cheeks, his eyes, his parted lips. His body twisted when he moved, as though he couldn’t quite pin down a human shape. 

"Get to know each other," whispered Prompto.

“We’re sure,” Noct said. He squeezed Luna’s hand, and she nodded. “We wanted it this way. With you.”

“It’s only right,” Luna said, “for Briar to be married with his parents’ blessing.”

Ignis leaned on his cane, a slow smile lighting his face like the warm glow of dawn. “You will always have our blessing,” he said, and took a firm step forward. “Always, from this day to the end of your line." He held their shoulders and bowed his head, the faintest tickle of magic spreading from his hands. "Now. Let us begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaand that's it, folks! :D Thank you so much for your supportive comments throughout this! It's been great fun to write.


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